"Where are Federicka and her family and friends?"
"Down on the beach. They'll be back later."
The brandy nipped the edges of her tongue. She thought: Brandy, just the two of us, for a few moments. She was disturbed by new lines in his face, his restless gaze. She took his hand and led him to the dining table, so beautiful in the midst of dark green plants.
"Some more brandy," she suggested.
He nodded toward a newspaper, spread on the table.
"Is it recent?"
"It's from Colima ... a couple of days old."
"Any news from General Matanzas?"
"No. But there's plenty from outside places. In Morelos, several haciendas have been burned. In Guanajuato, owners have been driven away."
"Here at Palma Sola these tragedies seem remote," he said.